I wasn’t a mother.
As a strong, independent, educated, know-it-all woman I had my ideas of how motherhood would be and what my kids would be like.
One thing was for sure, my kids would NOT have a bald spot on the back of their head.
Those poor children, I thought.
They must be left in their crib all day.
That will never happen to my unborn, future, perfect child.
Then I had my first little boy and sure enough, he was perfect. He was perfect from his eyes to his smile to his toes and his chin and all the way around to the big shiny bald spot on the back of his head.
My son did not spend hours in his crib, neglected by those that loved him. He was played with, stimulated, toted around town for this and that, taken for walks in the neighborhood, carried in arms, cuddled, nursed, loved.
He had tummy time, lots of it, and despite all of that love, one sweep around the back of his head revealed a patch of fine, short hair.
Always trying to grow back.
Never quite getting there.
Quite pronounced aside a head topped with long spikey hair that rarely tamed.
My poor child? No. Absolutely not.
This bald spot changed me.
It showed me how little one can know of another’s child and yet quickly come to an assumption about them.
It showed me how little this bald spot mattered in the grand scheme of things.
My kid has fine hair. He rubs it off in the crib. He sleeps on his back, as recommended in standard practice with infants. He wakes up and the area where he sleeps is riddled with fine baby hairs. From the back of his head. And I think his bald spot is quite adorable!
I love my selectively bald baby.
It is really impossible to know what you will think and feel before you go through that physical change of becoming a mother. Now having my sons, I have a difficult time remembering what I thought and felt before August of 2011 with respect to children, although I do remember secretly disapproving of back-of-head bald spots.
I will readily admit that the bald spot on the back of my kid’s head likely spawns all sorts of secret thoughts in the minds of passersby and moms of kids with thick locks or shaved heads.
The good news? That hair grew in and with it grew a mind of its own. It’s thick and full and crazy in the mornings. It’s beautiful and the only judgement it spawned in toddlerhood was gender confusion from strangers.
So for now I suggest that the next time you see a baby with a giant bald spot on the back of their head, remember how wrong I was about its significance and see if their mom will let you kiss it for good luck.
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